


Underlying Assets

by lynne_monstr



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hetalia Kink Meme, Lingerie, M/M, Power Plays, Prussia gets exactly what he wants, semi-public place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Germany had always prided himself on being a responsible leader and nation. Except now all he can think about is the racy lingerie hiding under Prussia’s suit. He was going to kill Prussia. Just as soon as he took care of more important matters.</p><p>De-anon from the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underlying Assets

It started with a hand on his thigh.  
  
Germany jerked to attention, practically jumping out of his seat in surprise. Quickly composing himself, he sent an irritated glare at where Prussia sat silent and seemingly innocent beside him, eyes fixed intently towards the front of the room.  
  
If not for the heavy weight still resting inappropriately high on his leg, Germany would have sworn his brother’s focus lay solely on the meeting at hand. Experience vehemently said otherwise, but experience had also taught him that without further information there was little he could do to derail whatever scheme was no doubt in the works.  
  
Letting his gaze linger for a moment longer, Germany resolved himself to be on his guard and forcibly removed the offending hand from his person. Luckily, nobody else at the large conference table seemed to register his momentary lapse in attention, too busy typing their own notes or staring glassy-eyed out the windows lining the far wall.  
  
At the front of the room, Spain flipped to the next slide in his presentation.  
  
Putting the incident out of his mind, Germany relaxed and diverted his attention back where it belonged.  
  
Spain clicked through several more slides. Charts, graphs, statistics, and future projections filled the large white screen behind him. Slowly, Germany felt himself drawn back in, facts and figures making an orderly procession through his head that let him easily identify the anomalies in their ranks. Each discrepancy was meticulously recorded on his legal pad for later questioning.  
  
He was completely immersed in his calculations when the heavy ballpoint pen he favored was plucked from his grasp. A set of long fingers curled tight around his wrist, stilling his hand before he could snatch it back. Annoyed, he narrowed his eyes at the nuisance to his right.  
  
Prussia grinned, barely more than a twitching of thin lips. Then those long fingers guided Germany’s hand beneath the table to Prussia’s own leg.    
  
Germany bit back a grumble, not wanting to draw further attention. The irritation quickly turned to confusion, however, when he felt something beneath the crisply pressed suit pants at his fingers. Something that shouldn’t have been there; what felt like a thin strap running lengthwise over hard muscle. Unable to let the mystery alone, Germany found himself exploring the length of Prussia’s thigh, compulsively seeking the missing piece to the puzzle.  
  
And then it clicked in his mind, and his breath caught in his throat, coherent thoughts scattering like a flock of startled birds into the sky.  
  
Garters. Prussia was wearing garters beneath his ash gray suit. It could be nothing else.  
  
Germany snatched his hand back as if burnt. Heart hammering in his chest, he whipped his head around to meet the playful gaze next to him.  
  
Almost imperceptibly, Prussia nodded, confirming the unspoken question. Then he smiled like nothing had happened and ignored Germany in favor of diligently taking notes on his sleek laptop, fingers flying over the keys in a steady, unbroken rhythm. As if he hadn’t dressed up and presented himself like some obscene present waiting to be unwrapped.  
  
Germany urgently tried to rid that last thought from his mind.  
  
The steady, staccato clicking of the keyboard echoed like laughter as Germany fought to restore his mind into some semblance of order and decorum.  
  
As if from far away, Spain concluded his presentation amidst a round of polite applause. A brief discussion followed, and though Germany knew there were several points he wanted clarity on, he was unable to marshal his thoughts sufficiently to voice any of them. His mind was plagued by a different set of questions entirely.  
  
Questions of color and fabric and cut and style. Rather than debating employment statistics and interest rates, his mind was pondering—in excruciating detail— long lines of lean muscle barely concealed by scraps of silk, lace, or satin. The respective merits of scarlet red versus midnight black. Or perhaps an unsullied white, stark enough to give color to even Prussia’s marble complexion.  
  
He longed to peel off each layer of that stylish business suit until there was nothing left but stockings and garters. Or perhaps he would let Prussia keep his shirt, its buttons torn open to frame his lithe chest, drawing attention down towards firm abdominal muscles and past the dip of his navel, lower and lower until—  
  
“Germany?”  
  
England’s voice— and corresponding raised eyebrow, he noticed—yanked him roughly from his thoughts, head snapping to attention as surely as if he’d been back in a military uniform.  
  
Germany cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious under the scrutiny of what he realized was the entire room. Even the previously idle window-gazing nations were eyeing him curiously. Next to him, Prussia let out a soft huff of amusement, well aware of exactly why Germany was so distracted.  
  
“No questions from you? That’s certainly a first.”  
  
England again, his face a mixture of concern and relief at the lack of Germany’s usual slew of probing questions.  
  
Germany blinked several times against the room’s harsh fluorescent lighting, suddenly feeling like he was in an interrogation chamber rather than a tastefully furnished conference room. He looked around, almost expecting the telltale metal table and chairs, the concrete walls with no windows. But there was only the large, airy room with the beautiful view, the fake mahogany table flanked by leather chairs complete with cushy armrests, the muted walls adorned by boring pictures of landscapes, and the slightly outdated projection device.  
  
“No,” Germany replied, more curtly than the question warranted. “That was satisfactory, thank you.” With effort, he forced his lips into a tight smile and inclined his head.  
  
In past years, he’d been chastised more than once by Italy for looking scary when he was simply attempting overtures of friendship. He was never more thankful for that knowledge than he was now, as his attempt at a smile had the desired effect; suddenly, all the nations staring at him seemed to have much more important things to do. There was a flurry of activity as papers were rustled and fingers connected with the keyboards in front of them, their owners’ previously prying eyes suddenly becoming engrossed in their own notes and memos.  
  
A flush of shame swept through Germany. He’d always prided himself on acting like a responsible nation. A role model and a leader. But there was nothing responsible about his current behavior.  
  
This needed to end. Now.  
  
Resisting the urge to glance sideways at Prussia, Germany squared his shoulders and focused on the front of the room where France was taking the podium to begin his own report. The other nation’s normally melodic voice seemed muted, the words lost to the pounding of Germany’s blood, as loud and unceasing in his ears as the war drums of his past. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that alone could force away the desire that had trapped him as surely as any armed enemy.  
  
It was only when he felt soft wool beneath his fingertips that he realized his hand had ventured back under the table to Prussia’s lap, idly stroking along the concealed garter strap. Swallowing against the sudden pounding in his chest, he traced the hidden strap, fingertips walking upwards towards where a garter belt was surely hidden, then reversing direction until he could feel where skin and muscle were constricted by the tight elastic band of what had to be a set of stockings.  
  
Prussia was warm and solid beneath his fingers, and a rush of pure want surged through Germany. The room suddenly felt incredibly stifling, and he resisted the urge to tug at his shirt collar.  
  
When France stepped down from the podium, his presentation concluded, Germany made a snap decision.  
  
He didn’t remember what he said, only that it was enough to grant a recess before the next round of presentations. He watched as the other nations filed from the room, trembling hands clenched around a stack of papers that meant absolutely nothing to him.  
  
The click of the double doors swinging shut jerked him back to the present. They were alone.  
  
He moved, pushing his chair back from the table. But Prussia was faster and in a blur of motion he was between Germany and the table, pinning Germany’s wrists to the armrests on either side of him. Germany was already halfway to standing and found himself jerked backwards into his seat, Prussia’s suit-clad frame crowding the space between his legs.  
  
A set of lips pressed lightly against his forehead. Mocking, teasing. “So close, West, but not quite.”  
  
Germany tugged against the grip on his wrists, frustrated when it didn’t budge in the slightest. Despite his slighter build, Prussia was deceptively strong, and the smirk playing around the edges of those thin lips was proof that he knew it.  
  
Leaning back in the seat, Germany glared defiantly upward. “You’ve certainly succeeded in making a nuisance of yourself today. What exactly do you plan to do to rectify this?” A flush warmed his face as the words failed to come out as scathing as he’d intended, sounding instead like a rather breathy invitation.  
  
Prussia must have thought the same, because the devious grin stretched across his face somehow grew wider. “So much. So, so much. You stay just like that and maybe we’ll finish before the rest of them get back.”  
  
“And if I don’t?”  
  
“Then you’ll stay like _that_ —” bright, mischievous eyes glanced down at the very visible bulge already tenting Germany’s slacks, “—even longer.”  
  
Throat tight, Germany gave a tense, barely there nod.  
  
It was enough and abruptly, the pressure on his wrists was released. Before he could catch his breath it was replaced by a knee brushing along his thigh, tantalizingly close to the bulge straining against his slacks. He bit back a startled gasp, hands squeezing tight against the cushy leather of chair’s armrests.  
  
“What would the rest of them think if they could see you like this?”  
  
Germany’s eyes slipped shut against the pulse of heat the question brought.  
  
Tongue flicking out to lick along the bead of sweat at Germany’s temple, Prussia continued undaunted. “Hard without even being touched. And during one of your precious meetings. They’d be so shocked and disappointed at your lack of willpower.”  
  
It wasn’t his _willpower_ they would be disappointed in, Germany thought. More like his blatant lack of regard for rules and public decency. And sheer irresponsibility.  
  
Prussia pulled away then, and Germany forced his eyes open to follow his movements. And was rewarded by the sight of hands deftly working at Prussia’s own slacks, loosening the belt and sliding the zip down in one torturously long motion.  
  
The remainder of Germany’s thoughts deserted him as a flash of black was exposed between Prussia’s fingers. He strained forward as far as could. He was so close; all he had to do was reach out a hand and—  
  
A finger under his chin stopped him cold and with reluctance he let the pressure tilt his head upwards, gaze dragging away from that tantalizing glimpse of black, up the line of Prussia’s tight fitting jacket to meet his stern gaze.  
  
“I know how much you like thinking you’re in control. And because I’m feeling so generous and all around awesome today, here’s what we’re gonna do.” A thumb brushed along Germany’s jawline, back and forth as he continued. “You stay put and I’ll keep going.”  
  
Hands trailed down Germany’s neck and over his arms to lay atop each of his wrists where he gripped the chair, not restraining this time, just resting lightly. There was no need to hold him down and they both knew it. “It’s all up to you,” Prussia repeated, lips brushing feather light against Germany’s own.  
  
He found himself nodding along, eyes unfocused and unseeing. But even as he was agreeing, he couldn’t help but close the scant distance between them to bring their mouths together. For one perfect second he felt Prussia’s surprise in the rigid set of his lips. Then time unfroze and he felt himself pushed back against the seat, a warm tongue invading his mouth and a lean body pressed between his legs, urging them wider apart until his thighs burned from the strain. For a moment there was nothing but tongue and teeth and Prussia’s scent surrounding him. Prussia’s mouth was a point of searing heat against his own, as insistent and unyielding as the hands on Germany’s wrists, anchoring both his body and his mind.  
  
Without warning Prussia pulled away, leaving an aching chill of cool air in his wake. Before Germany could protest, Prussia was once again in motion, stripping himself of his suit jacket and tie in swift, efficient movements. He threw the garments on the table behind him without so much as a glance.  
  
Papers went flying, but save for the small voice crying out for order in the back of his mind, Germany couldn’t bring himself to truly care.  
  
Underneath the jacket, Prussia stood tall in in slacks and a dress shirt that just that morning, Germany had argued was a size too small for even his lean frame. Now, staring at the muscles clearly defined beneath starched powder blue, he mentally took back his earlier words. Throat suddenly dry, his eyes travelled down along the line of small buttons, all the way to where Prussia’s pants and belt hung tantalizingly open.  
  
He didn’t dare move from his seat, and a sudden spasm in his fingers was a cruel reminder that he could do nothing but wait. With a deep but ineffective breath, he forced himself to relax.  
  
Prussia laughed, one hand trailing a lazy path down to palm himself through his gaping pants. He threw back his head, exposing the long, pale line of his throat. “Like what you see?” he asked, not bothering to look down and witness the effects of his little performance.  
  
Germany swallowed tightly, not trusting himself to speak just yet.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Leaning back against the table, Prussia cocked a hip and looked down at him. “Touch yourself.”  
  
Germany froze, and his brain took the opportunity to come out of its stupor and remind him that someone could walk in at any moment and see them. See _him_. A shot of adrenaline sent his heart racing at a gallop, palms sticking to the leather where they gripped the armrests. “I can’t. Not here, not—”  
  
“Do it.”  
  
It was one thing to watch Prussia; to let Prussia act as he would. But this, this was something else entirely. Germany’s eyes darted back and forth across the empty room, as if physically searching for the correct course of action.  
  
Prussia’s pale fingers twitched, drawing his gaze as they flitted along the line of the opened zipper, and anything else Germany was inclined to think fled as he zeroed in on the hints of elaborate lingerie fleetingly exposed through the blue shirttails. Lace, his mind supplied. Prussia was wearing black lace. (Mentally, he struck a line through the _color_ and _fabric_ questions on the list that had been plaguing him.)  
  
A pulse of warmth raced through him. Startled, Germany realized he’d unconsciously followed Prussia’s command, one of his own hands pressed firmly between his legs. It felt good, far too good to be anything but wrong, but instead of doing the sensible thing and stopping this madness, he pressed down harder. The mixture of relief and want and shame drove the breath from his lungs and his shoulders slumped inward.  
  
“Good.”  
  
The low, scratchy voice made Germany shiver, and the part of him still capable of analytical thought took pride in the knowledge that Prussia was as affected by this as he.  
  
As if he’d read Germany’s mind, Prussia gave a short scoff and pushed off from the table. One large stride put him directly in front of Germany. With a sharp smile, he carded fingers through Germany’s hair until their gazes met. Slowly, he placed his foot on the chair directly between Germany’s legs and glanced down pointedly. “If you want it, earn it.”  
  
Germany didn’t need to ask to know what was expected of him. A thrill raced through him and with a steadying breath he released his death grip on the armrests. One hand cupped the back of the shoe to lift it, the supple leather soft against his own skin. The other reached for Prussia’s calf, thumb running along compact muscle as his hand gently lifted and held the weight of his leg steady. Slowly, he slipped the shoe off, hearing the soft thud as it made contact with the thin industrial carpeting. Through it all, his eyes never left Prussia’s, couldn’t even if he tried.  
  
A blink was all the permission he needed and he looked down at his prize, disappointment coursing through him when he saw not the expected stocking covered foot, but a light grey sock. Toes wiggled impatiently and Germany nearly jumped as the largest one brushed against where his pants were still straining. He hissed through his teeth, forcing himself to remain composed. It would be poor practice to leave a job unfinished.  
  
Hooking a finger under the elastic at the top, he slid the sock down with one hand, finally revealing the translucent black beneath. He stilled, taking a moment to admire the display.  
  
He almost choked on his tongue when the stocking-clad foot twitched, pressing down against his length. The pulsing throb of his arousal flared like an explosion, and Germany wasn’t quick enough to bite back the strained gasp that broke free from his throat, echoing loudly in the large, silent space.  
  
Prussia’s sly grin widened and the ball of his foot increased in pressure, as if in reward for the momentary lapse.  
  
It was enough to snap the rest of Germany’s frayed control. His hips rolled up and the world faded into the background as Prussia met him at each heady thrust, stroking and teasing and pressing with small, quick movements of his foot. Germany’s eyes followed every sinuous movement as Prussia worked him, watching the bones and joints shift beneath the sheer black stockings.  
  
It no longer mattered that they were in public, that they could be caught. Unable to hold back any longer, Germany grabbed the offending foot and for one long, blissful moment pressed it hard against himself.  He clenched his eyes shut as waves of pleasure crashed over him. A tremor ran down his legs and his stomach clenched and this was going to be over embarrassingly quickly if he didn’t do something.  
  
With a few shuddering breaths, he lifted Prussia’s foot away, chest heaving as he struggled to pull back from the edge. His eyes flicked upwards to see Prussia looking down on him, an indulgent smile gracing his features.  
  
A fierce desire to wipe that away that look, to drag Prussia down to the same depths he’d dragged Germany to, consumed him. Focus narrowing to a laser sharp precision, he shifted the foot in his hands, finally paying it the attention it deserved. Rolling each silk-clad toe between his fingers; carefully kneading the space between the delicate bones; massaging the ball of Prussia’s foot with both thumbs at once.  
  
Each touch drew a series of grunts and humming noises from above, and through the haze of his own pleasure Germany catalogued each and every one, even as the ache between his legs became more and more painful. Years of hard labor had gifted him with unshakable hands and they didn’t betray him now, remaining steady as he stroked hard along the arch of Prussia’s outstretched foot, savoring the tantalizing touch of silk sliding over his knuckles as they kneaded hard into flesh and bone.  
  
Which was when he heard it. A groan, long and low and drawn out.  
  
It struck Germany with a sudden urge, surprising in its intensity, to run his lips along the thick seam stretched across the span of black-clad toes. To show his devotion with his tongue, eyes flicking up to gaze up along the silk-encased leg as he watched Prussia come apart under his ministrations. Something within Germany clicked at the thought, pieces fitting together in just the right way, and a new determination settled over him. Prussia always played to win, but he often forgot that the nation he was teasing had once been his best student. And it was time to remind him of that.  
  
This time it was Germany with the devious smile as he resumed his previous actions. Even more so when he looked up to see red eyes hooded and blurred with pleasure.  
  
His moment of victory was short lived. A quick blink and Prussia was sharp-eyed and composed once again, retaliating with a roll of his ankle that sent Germany’s thoughts flying apart, a searing heat flaring under his skin.  
  
For a moment the foot simply rested against Germany’s arousal, maddening in its stillness. And then with a slight curve of his lip, Prussia released him and offered his other leg.  
  
With a groan that was half frustration and half need, Germany accepted the temporary setback and gave the outstretched foot the same meticulous attention as its counterpart. This time Prussia remained a silent presence above him, no matter how hard Germany worked to provoke the hitched noises and breathy reactions he’d drawn out before.  
  
In a last ditch attempt to  break his brother’s reserve, Germany dragged his knuckles deep into the side of the sensitive arch, hard enough that it would bring as much pain as it did pleasure. It was a dirty trick, and it never failed to draw a reaction.  
  
It worked, but not how he expected.  
   
Prussia paused, eyeing him in a way that said he knew exactly what Germany was playing at. “It’s gonna take more than that, West.” His voice was smooth, taunting in a way that reminded Germany of negotiating an enemy surrender. “But I respect a good attempt, so come on. Tell me exactly what you want.”  
  
Germany fought to even out his breathing, eyes traveling upwards to take in the flush painting Prussia’s cheeks and the hardness that was a match to Germany’s own. He thought of the delicate lace beneath the pressed business suit, how it would feel under his hands as he ripped it aside to get at what lay beneath. Of Prussia underneath him, strong muscles and deadly fighting instinct yielding to Germany’s touch as he moaned obscenities and pleasure alike.  
  
Not stopping to think, he pressed the ball of Prussia’s foot against his growing arousal, letting his eyes slip shut against the tide of images, drawing strength from them. It took everything he had to stop, but he did, legs trembling as he raised his head to spear Prussia with his best gaze. Two could play this game, and Germany had always been a more than apt pupil.  
  
He shoved at Prussia’s foot until it slid off his lap entirely. “What I want…” he began, voice raspy and on the edge of breaking. His eyes flicked to the table strewn with notepads and laptops, pens and briefcases, half empty cups of coffee. Imagined shoving them all aside. “You, on your back, on that table.”  
  
He let his hand settle between his legs, savoring the pulse of pleasure it brought. And not missing how Prussia’s gaze flew to follow his movements.  
  
Emboldened, he pressed on. “I want to strip you of your clothes, item by item, until you finally show me what you’ve been taunting me with. You’ll fight me at first, but we both know you won’t really want to win.”  
  
A flash of pink darted out as Prussia licked his lips, his stance wide and challenging, shoulders thrown back. Long spindly fingers reached up to undo his top shirt buttons.  “You mean like this?” he asked.  
  
Germany nodded coolly, refusing to take the bait. “Yes. Then I’m going to touch you. But only those scraps of fabric you’re refusing to show me. Not you, not your skin. You’ll plead with me to take them off; to take you. And if you’re very good I might do it.”  
  
Prussia’s eyes darkened, the familiar red barely more than a thin ring of color. He opened another button on his shirt, exposing a long, pale triangle whose point rested just above his navel.  
  
“And when I’ve had my fill—“  
  
“You’ll what?” Prussia snapped fully to attention even as his hands continued to work, flicking open button after button of his own shirt until there were none left.  
  
“Then I’m going to fuck you until the only word you can remember is my name.”  
  
Prussia was breathing heavily, the edges of his pale blue shirt fluttering with every labored breath. “Not a bad plan,” he conceded. “But from where I’m standing, you’re doing a piss poor job of executing.”  
  
Germany’s fingers twitched.  Then he was in motion, hands around Prussia’s trim waist lifting him up and shoving him onto his back on the conference table, not even bothering to sweep aside his neglected legal pad and the precisely lined up pen and pencil beside it. They went skittering along the smooth surface, forgotten before they left his field of vision. He worked fast, heaving himself onto the table in one powerful leap. He settled astride Prussia’s hips just as they bucked against his own, and for a second his world went white, electric sparks exploding beyond his eyes. With a deep groan, Germany ground down, taking his own pleasure and keeping Prussia from flipping their positions.  
  
Moving quickly, he jerked Prussia’s wrists together, transferring them to one hand and pinning them to his brother’s bared chest. His other hand fumbled beneath them to forcibly lift Prussia’s hips and shove the unfastened slacks down. In the same motion, he scooted backwards, the better to trap Prussia’s legs and afford himself a more complete view.  
  
Prussia kicked out at the knee, and Germany braced for a counterattack, but Prussia merely flung the unwanted clothing to the floor with a low groan. “Fucking finally.”  
  
Germany looked down, world coming to a standstill. Prussia was laid out beneath him, white hair in disarray, dress shirt pooled around him. His pinned arms gave way to the pale skin of his stomach and the sharp jut of his hips as they disappeared beneath a thick lace garter belt and a triangle of deep, decadent black lace. With his free hand, Germany traced a line from one hipbone down to the precious lace, finger dipping beneath the delicate garment as Prussia arched into his touch.  
  
He wasn’t even pretending to fight anymore, Germany realized, and let go of the unyielding grip he had on his captured wrists.  
  
Arms freed, Prussia reached up to grab him by the shoulders, pulling their bodies flush together as their lips met. For a brief moment, Germany tensed, expecting another attempt to roll him over onto his back, but it never came. There was only the press of soft lips against his own and a strong, barely covered body pressing hard against him.  
  
Letting out a long, satisfied breath, he relaxed into the embrace, cupping Prussia’s jaw and claiming his mouth as they moved together. Prussia matched him move for move, yielding when Germany pressed and chasing him when he paused for breath.  
  
Germany broke away with a gasp, pushing himself upright with monumental effort. His hips jerked in short little spasms but he forced himself to wait. Prussia had manipulated him, broken his concentration during a public meeting, and done it all with a smile on his face. And Germany had every intention of paying him back. This wasn’t a moment to waste on mindless rutting.  
  
He paused, letting his gaze linger on Prussia’s body, slighter than his own bulky frame but no less dangerous. A weapon concealed in flesh and lace. Bright eyes watched him in turn, head tilted and waiting, a wild creature playing at domesticity. Germany felt a spike of heat flash through him, hypersensitive of every touch of Prussia’s body against his own. Because Prussia may have only been playing at captivity, but for the moment he was all Germany’s.  
  
Slowly, he placed both hands against that lean stomach, pushing upwards and outwards until the light blue shirt slipped from his shoulders. To his credit, Prussia was a fast learner, and shrugged out of the shirt without being told. It left him in nothing but the lingerie, and Germany scooted back, raising himself up on his knees for a better vantage point.  
  
Giving into temptation, he mapped it all with his fingers. Light, tracing strokes that left muscles quaking and trembling in their wake; rough swipes with his fingernails that left raised lines of reddened flesh behind; open-mouthed kisses against skin and lace alike. Prussia was on a knife’s edge, skirting the line between control and desire as fingers traced the line of his groin where dark fabric met the crease of his thigh. His legs unconsciously spread wider to grant Germany better access, begging without saying a word.  
  
“Shall we get rid of these?” Germany asked, pressing his hand harder against the soaked and straining scrap of underwear between Prussia legs. The callouses on his fingers caught rough against the lace, and he could just barely feel the smoothness of skin through the delicate stitching. Warmth radiated out against his hand, and he worked a fingertip through a hole in the lace until he felt skin against skin.  
  
Prussia bucked, head thrown back and growling out a choked out, “Yes.”  
  
Germany smiled, sharp and bright in a way he’d learned from the nation in front of him. “That’s too bad,” he answered.  
  
In the same breath, he withdrew his hand, keen eyes taking in every twitch and spasm as Prussia struggled to remain unaffected at the loss. The muscles of his chest stuttered, fingers curled into tight fists as if physically restraining himself from taking matters into his own hands. He shuddered, sightless eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling, but keeping himself still, refusing to crack.  
  
It was a captivating sight. So often it was easy to forget that a force of will resided just below the surface of his seemingly undisciplined brother. Germany lived for these moments, the glimpses of steel that brought back memories of the mentor who’d raised him and trained him. Pleasure built low in Germany’s stomach as he watched, skin heating from within until it was suddenly far too hot in the room. His own suit felt much too stuffy and constraining and he longed to have it off. Unwilling to be outdone in matters of self-control, he pushed the discomforts aside and concentrated on the sight before him.  
  
“Fuck, West, what’s gotten in to you?” Prussia’s eyes were wide, looking up at Germany like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.  
  
“You,” Germany answered, gaze dark and hooded. “And you can drop the fake astonishment. We both know you planned this whole thing down to the last detail.”  
  
Prussia’s features shifted into a smug, leering smile.  
  
“I should leave you like this,” Germany mused. One hand gently traced the scrap of lace where it bulged in obvious arousal, relishing the way his touch drew a stuttering gasp from the body under his hands. It made him far too aware of his own desire, and a line of heat raced down to coil tightly in his stomach. He was riding on the edge, skirting the line of self-discipline and in danger of faltering at each step. It was a precarious balance that made it all the more thrilling. “I could walk away. Resume the meeting and see how long you’d last.”  
  
Prussia’s eyes widened but he said nothing.  
  
“You’d touch yourself right there in this room, with nobody knowing but me. Pretending it was my hand instead of your own.” Germany bent down to place a chaste kiss on the wet spot seeping through the lace undergarment. He smiled against the fabric, breathing in the scent of Prussia’s frustration, the way the tremors made his body shake with constrained force.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Prussia’s voice was thready but clear, a hint of steel peeking out between the widening fissures in his self-control. “Fuck that, West. You think I don’t know you just as well?”  
  
A hand twisted unexpectedly in Germany’s hair, pressing him down against Prussia’s arousal and holding him there. Prussia let out a low moan at the increased contact, quickly turning into a startled yelp as Germany opened his mouth to suck at the lace-covered flesh.  
  
Prussia continued, voice practically a growl. “You’d be suffering right there next to me. I saw you right before you called this break. You couldn’t keep it together. Too busy thinking of me, imagining what I’d look like, dressed up just for you.” Prussia rolled his hips, voice dropping to a whisper. “So yeah, we can stop. But how long do you think it would take before the rest of those idiots figure out you’re hard underneath that nice suit of yours?”  
  
With a choked off cry, Germany tore himself from Prussia’s grip and lunged at his mouth. They were chest to chest again, grinding against each other as they kissed. Something squeezed hard around his sides, and it took Germany a perplexed moment before he realized it was Prussia’s legs, wrapped tight around him and hooked at his back, drawing him even closer. It felt incredible and without thinking he reached out a hand to stroke along one stocking-clad leg.  
  
He could get release just from this. Their bodies pressed together, Prussia willing and compliant under his hands. But now that he had everything he sought, it wasn’t enough. He needed more.  
  
Wasting no time, he pulled himself free to stand at the edge of the table, feet barely hitting the floor before he heaved Prussia closer to him. Not pausing, he grabbed one silk-smooth leg and hoisted it up to sit heavy on his shoulder. It had the added benefit of not only prying Prussia open but affording himself a truly spectacular view. His eyes lingered, tracing the black lace down towards where it parted Prussia’s ass and disappeared beneath the table. It was convenient that Prussia had chosen a thong, Germany considered. Highly convenient indeed.  
  
He frowned as reality intruded on his plans, a curse slipping out from under his breath.  
  
“Jacket pocket,” Prussia cut into his thoughts, voice taut. He managed a pleased smile despite it all. “Yours. I slipped some in there earlier.”  
  
Germany patted along his chest and sure enough, a tiny plastic tube was nestled in his inside breast pocket. He held back a fond smile. Then he ripped off the top of the little tube with his teeth.  
  
Coating his fingers, he shoved aside the thin piece of fabric between Prussia’s legs and pressed a finger inside. He could feel Prussia tense around him, but otherwise he didn’t move as Germany toyed with him, twisting and curling the finger inside the tight space. He added another, and when Prussia began rocking back and forth, knuckles turning white where they clenched the edge of the table, Germany knew he was more than ready.  
  
He barely paused to slick himself up before thrusting inside in one smooth motion.  
  
Beneath him, Prussia gasped, head thudding against the table as his back arched. It was almost enough to make Germany pause when a low, “More, fucking…don’t you dare stop,” spurred him on.  
  
He pulled out almost to the tip, pushing back inside before Prussia could protest the loss. Then he did it again, eyes roaming in rapt fascination—the clench of Prussia’s jaw as he tried not to cry out, the way the muscles in his neck stood out in stark relief, how his hips rolled up in an attempt to take Germany even deeper.  
  
“Touch yourself,” he said between breaths. A small part of his mind, the part that was always cataloguing and making lists, found amusement in the idea that those same words had come from Prussia what felt like ages ago.  
  
Prussia complied with surprising speed, as if he’d been waiting for the words this whole time, hand flying to his hips to shove the scrap of underwear down and free himself.  
  
“No,” Germany snapped, the crack of his voice stopping Prussia in his tracks. “I said touch. Not to take it off.”  
  
Hazy eyes widened, and Prussia took a sharp breath to speak.  
  
Germany thrust into him again, cutting off any response save for a surprised grunt. Which was hardly the reaction he was looking for. With a slight recalculation in angle, he slammed home once more.  
  
The change was immediate. Prussia shuddered beneath him, the long lines of his neck exposed as his back arched like a bow. His mouth fell open, eyes closed as he lost himself in pleasure.  
  
Forcing himself to keep still, Germany leaned in, brushing a finger against Prussia’s silent lips. “Are you ready to listen now?” The barest nod of his head was all the answer Germany needed, and he kissed Prussia on the mouth. “Good,” he murmured, straightening. “Now touch yourself.”  
  
Prussia did, one hand dipping between the garter belt and underwear to wrap fingers around his length. His hips jerked at the contact, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through Germany at each movement.  
  
Breathing deeply, Germany resumed the pace, faster this time. He longed to keep things slow and make this last, but need and impatience burned through him and spurred him on. He was overwhelmed by sight and sensation, watching Prussia as he fumbled to stroke himself through the confines of the lingerie, feeling Prussia clenching around him at each drag of skin against skin. Heat spread down Germany’s legs until it was too much to contain any longer. He gripped Prussia’s hips tighter, as if that alone could stop him from falling.  
  
Beneath him, Prussia jerked once, his leg kicking against Germany’s back. It was enough to crack the last of his resolve and with a strangled moan, Germany came, body shuddering as he plummeted over the edge.  
  
He staggered to find his footing as his vision cleared, the details of his surroundings coming back to him one by one. He could hear Prussia panting a rapid staccato, gasping and desperate with his own unfulfilled need, unable to work up the proper leverage with the lingerie impeding his movements.  
  
Prussia bit his slightly swollen lip, eyes raising to meet Germany’s own. “West, come on, let me—please, I need…” His hips pistoned into the air, frantic for more and unable to find release.  
  
Wasting no time, Germany wrenched Prussia’s hands away, yanking the underwear down and slipping his own hands in its place. Not pausing, he leaned down to mouth kisses against his stomach and down the inside of his thighs. A broken moan filled the air and in the space between one stroke and the next Prussia’s entire body tensed, mouth opening in a silent shout as he spilled into Germany’s hands.  
  
For a moment they were both still. Then Germany let himself fall forward, elbows and forearms hitting the table to bracket Prussia on either side. After a handful of breaths, he got himself under some semblance of control, no longer in danger of collapsing. Prussia, he noticed, was even more disheveled, sprawled out over the table with several loose sheets of paper clinging to his sweat-damp torso, both stocking-clad legs askew where they’d fallen on the table. It brought to mind some kind of obscene store mannequin, and Germany held back an inappropriate chuckle at the thought.  
  
Finally, the alarm bells in the back of his mind could no longer be ignored and Germany reluctantly dragged an arm around to consult his watch. He was both relieved and disappointed at what he found. “Break’s over in six minutes,” he announced.  
  
It was just enough time to tidy the room and erase the evidence of what they’d done, and so Germany fought against the lethargy that threatened to take him under, pressing on. “You should go clean yourself up, unless you intend to spend the rest of the meeting like that.”  
  
“You should clean me up. Your mess, too,” came the mumbled response.  
  
Germany wanted nothing more than to do just that. But there was no time for rest, not with the restart of the meeting so close at hand. He straightened from the table, hands already working to smooth and refasten his rumpled suit and clean himself off with the handkerchief that had somehow stayed put in his front jacket pocket.    
  
Another thought came to him and he flashed a predatory smile. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before staging that little performance of yours in the middle of a meeting,” he replied, trailing a finger down the damp skin of Prussia’s chest.  
  
Prussia stretched, languid and pleased under the touch, before tilting his head to meet Germany’s eyes. “Worth it,” he said, lips spreading into a lazy smile. Then he heaved a sharp breath and sat up, wincing only slightly. Hopping off the table, he found his discarded clothes, casting a frown at their wrinkled state, and proceeded to redress. A couple of tugs at the pressed edges of his suit seemed to satisfy him, and with a wink in Germany’s direction, he shuffled towards the room’s exit. No doubt to clean himself up properly in the bathroom.  
  
Knowing his brother’s penchant for planning, it was highly likely he’d hidden an entire set of clothes and cleaning implements somewhere in the building. Which brought another thought to mind. Halting in his polishing of the conference table, Germany called out after him. “Oh, and Prussia…”  
  
Hand on the doorknob, Prussia paused. “Yeah?”  
  
Germany raised an eyebrow. “I hope for your sake that you brought a spare set of undergarments.”  
  
The grin he received was wide and wicked. “Maybe I did. But you’ll have to wait to find out.”  
  
Then he was gone from the room, leaving Germany alone with his thoughts churning anew.


End file.
